


Riviera

by spilled_notes



Series: Dance Me to the End of Love [3]
Category: Holby City
Genre: (because how could you set something in Torquay and not go there?), Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Original Character(s), how does this relate to canon? who even knows, spot the Fawlty Towers reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: Bernie and Serena are invited to spend a weekend dancing in Torquay. That's it, that's the entire premise. Expect fluff, lots of dancing, and maybe Bernie admiring Serena in several rather nice dresses (you're welcome).





	Riviera

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in bits on Tumblr back in October, but it's had a tidy-up (and some additions) since then.

‘We missed you last week,’ Helena says, sinking into the chair beside Serena.

‘Freshers week,’ Serena explains, her eyes fixed on Bernie as she dances with Neil. ‘We were full to the rafters with drunk students sporting various injuries.’

‘Oh joy.’

‘Only one with a traffic cone stuck on their head this year, though.’

‘Small mercies,’ Helena grimaces. ‘Anyway, I was hoping to catch you today.’

‘You were?’ Serena frowns, turning to her.

Helena nods. ‘Martin’s taking a group of his students down to Torquay for a weekend of dancing at the end of October.’

‘The English Riviera in autumn, how lovely,’ Serena said dryly.

‘He’s just had a couple drop out, and we wondered if you and Bernie might be interested in coming? I know it’ll be difficult for you to both get the same weekend off, but we wanted to ask you before anyone else.’

‘A weekend of dancing?’

‘Some workshops, a tea dance, two evening dances. Three course dinners. I’m pretty sure they have a decent wine list,’ she adds.

‘Why didn’t you say so?’ Serena teases, her eyes sparkling.

‘Shall I send you the details?’

‘Please,’ Serena replies, her gaze seeking Bernie again. ‘It would be so nice to get away.’

*

‘A whole weekend away together?’ Bernie asks on the way home, when Serena has finished reading out the details. ‘With no possible work interruptions?’

‘I know darling, the luxury.’

‘And getting to spend most of it dancing too. Sounds like a winner to me.’

‘I’m supposed to be finalising the next set of shifts tomorrow,’ Serena muses. ‘I’ll have to call in some favours.’

‘I’m sure Ric would be delighted to cover for you,’ Bernie says. ‘Between him and Raf and Morven, I’m sure they’ll manage just fine without us.’

‘You think we’ll still have a ward to come back to?’

‘Oh, they wouldn’t dare trash your ward.’

‘Ours,’ Serena corrects her, and Bernie takes her eyes off the road for a split second to smile at her. ‘Well then, I’ll see what I can do.’

*

“Count us in,” Serena texts to Helena the following afternoon, when she’s fluttered her eyelashes at Ric and bargained with Raf, and wrangled the roster into something workable – even if it means they both have more weekend shifts than is ideal over the next three months. “Looking forward to it :)”

*                *                *

Instead of leaving at lunchtime on Friday as they intended they end up working almost a full shift, courtesy of the red phone ringing just as Bernie was about to change out of her scrubs.

‘Typical,’ Serena grumbles, rolling her eyes, as they finally leave the ward and head out to Bernie’s car. ‘So much for a pleasant drive and a nice relaxing start to the weekend.’

‘Well we’re on our way now,’ Bernie smiles, catching at Serena’s fingers.

They get caught in the school traffic as they drive out of Holby, in the early rush hour build up on the M5 around Bristol and then the rush hour proper around Taunton, luckily miss the worst of the traffic around Exeter. Even so, it’s gone six thirty by the time they finally arrive at the hotel – Bernie pulling in to the last space in the car park – and check in. As they round the corner from the desk they almost walk into Helena, at the back of what must be their group moving between welcome drinks and dinner.

‘We won’t be long,’ Serena promises.

‘No rush,’ Helena smiles. ‘I’ll save you seats at our table.’

The first thing Bernie does when they get upstairs – after she’s fought with the key card, swearing under her breath when the light turns red three times before finally going green and letting her in – is to cross to the window and open it wide to let some air into the almost sweltering room.

‘Lovely view,’ she says dryly, looking out at the car park and the side of the neighbouring hotel.

‘What were you expecting – herds of wildebeest, sweeping majestically?’ Serena teases. ‘Come on, we’d better change. Otherwise everyone else’ll have finished eating before we even get down there.’

Bernie nods. But instead of starting to get ready she flops onto the bed, groaning happily as she sinks into the mattress.

‘That’s not getting ready,’ Serena admonishes, slipping off her blouse and unzipping her dress bag, nudging Bernie’s foot as she passes.

‘Just five minutes,’ Bernie pleads, closing her eyes. ‘I only need to change my shirt so I won’t take as long as you.’

‘Alright,’ Serena relents easily. They’ve had a long day, after all, and Bernie spent even more of it in theatre than she did. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m in my underwear, shall I?’ she teases.

‘Mm, that would be lovely,’ Bernie says, a smile evident in her voice.

‘Incorrigible,’ Serena mutters fondly.

‘But you love me.’

‘Lucky for you.’

‘Very,’ Bernie agrees.

‘Don’t fall asleep,’ Serena warns, sitting in front of the mirror to freshen her makeup.

‘I won’t,’ Bernie promises, yawning.

‘Bernie,’ Serena says, more sharply.

‘I won’t,’ she repeats.

*

‘Bernie, darling,’ Serena says softly.

No response.

‘Bernie?’ she tries again.

Bernie mumbles and shifts, but shows no sign of waking up.

Serena sits on the edge of the bed and gently strokes Bernie’s cheek. ‘I’m down to my underwear,’ she coaxes. ‘But I suppose I can just let you sleep a little longer while I get myself dressed.’

Bernie’s eyes snap open, her hand grasping at Serena’s arm before she can get up. ‘Don’t.’

‘Nice nap?’

‘I was just resting my eyes,’ she protests.

‘Of course you were, darling,’ Serena smiles, patting her shoulder and then standing up.

Bernie rolls over to watch as she crosses the room and takes her dress from the hanger before stepping into it. ‘Spoilsport,’ she mutters.

‘You can take it off me again later,’ Serena promises. ‘But you’ll have to help me finish getting into it first.’

Suddenly much keener to get up, Bernie trails her fingers along the line of Serena’s spine before starting to draw the zip up, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades and then doing up the little button, gently tugging the tab to meet it. ‘There,’ she says softly.

*

When they walk into the dining room, the rest of their table is just starting on their mains; by the time their desserts arrive everyone is heading to the ballroom. They linger a little over their apple turnover and cheesecake, neither wanting to dance on a full stomach.

‘Shall we go down, then?’ Bernie asks eventually, once they’ve finished their coffee and somehow found space for an after dinner mint each.

‘I suppose we’d better,’ Serena sighs. ‘As long as we start gently.’

‘Agreed,’ Bernie smiles, standing and holding out her hand.

In the ballroom downstairs the dancing is in full swing, the large floor packed with couples of varying levels of ability. Helena spots them, waves them over to two empty chairs near where Martin is DJing.

‘Long day?’ she asks when they both sit and bend to change their shoes.

‘Farm accident,’ Bernie explains.

‘Got to see this one in action with all her plates and screws,’ Serena adds.

‘Time to leave it all behind for a couple of days,’ Helena smiles.

‘Thank goodness.’

Bernie stands, holds out her hand to Serena. ‘[Foxtrot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IY1TBt5tyRI), to get us going?’

‘How could I resist?’

They draw quite a lot of attention on the floor. ‘We’re being watched, darling,’ Serena murmurs.

‘You’re the most beautiful woman in the room,’ Bernie says, as if this is explanation enough. ‘And none of them have any idea who we are, I suppose.’

‘We are also the only same sex couple in the room,’ Serena adds, glancing around them.

‘Probably has something to do with it,’ Bernie agrees. ‘I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon enough. Although they’ll still all be watching you.’

‘Flatterer,’ Serena scolds lightly.

After a rumba and a quickstep, Serena asks Helena if she’d like to dance; Martin’s busy with the music, has only stepped onto the floor once since they came down and then for hardly any time. So they dance a cha cha, and then Serena hands her over to Bernie for a tango. At the end of the dance Bernie is surprised to find Serena’s seat empty, looks around frowning and spots her dancing with a man.

‘That’s Alistair,’ Helena murmurs. ‘He and his wife have been having private lessons for six months or so now. They’re not used to sharing the floor with anyone else yet.’

Bernie nods absently, sits down and watches Serena do her best to follow his leads, to keep them from dancing into other couples. The song ends and Serena is half way back across the floor, her eyes fixed on Bernie’s, when Bernie hears a polite cough by her shoulder.

‘Can I interest you in a dance?’

‘Why not?’ Bernie smiles, taking the hand he offers.

‘I’m Geoff, by the way,’ he says, leading her to the edge of the floor and waiting for a gap.

‘Bernie,’ she replies.

He’s a good dancer and a decent lead, thankfully, and they have a pleasant foxtrot together. But when he walks Bernie off the floor and back to her seat she finds Serena isn’t there, is back on the floor with someone else.

Helena watches her longingly watching Serena, sidles over to Martin and whispers a request. Then she comes back and holds her hand out to Bernie, leads her through the end of a jive, skilfully avoiding other couples and manoeuvring them into gaps as they appear.

When Martin fades the track Helena spins Bernie around and she finds herself face to face with Serena.

‘Stop being so polite and just dance with each other for a bit,’ Helena murmurs, gently pushing Bernie forwards as the next song starts.

‘Couldn’t dance [to this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zb0x4_2xocY&spfreload=10) with anyone else,’ Bernie replies, and Helena smiles and winks as she walks away.

Serena moves gratefully into Bernie’s arms, relishing her firm hold after her last few partners, presses against her and sighs contentedly. ‘I do love dancing with you,’ she says quietly. ‘Especially to this.’

Bernie hums in agreement, cuts across the floor to avoid a cluster of couples in the corner and squeezes Serena’s hand. When the music ends and they come to a halt she can’t resist brushing a soft kiss to Serena’s lips, smiling as Serena laces their fingers.

‘Harold,’ they hear a woman just behind them whisper loudly. ‘They’re lesbians.’

Serena meets Bernie’s eye, has to look away again immediately and clap her hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

‘Do you– do you think I should go over there and correct her?’ Serena wheezes.

‘Only if you’d rather spend the rest of the night explaining sexual orientations to her than dancing with me.’

Serena cocks her head, pretending to consider. Bernie pouts and loosens her grip, but Serena holds tight. ‘I don’t know where you think you’re going,’ she murmurs.

‘Just leaving you to educate Harold and his wife,’ Bernie says mildly, fighting against a smile.

‘Well, if that’s what you’d prefer,’ Serena teases, laughing when Bernie tugs her so their bodies are flush.

‘ _This_ is what I’d prefer,’ she murmurs in Serena’s ear.

‘Me too, darling,’ Serena replies, her smile clear in her voice. ‘Always.’

*                *                *

 _We’ve never learned how to do anything together,_ Serena thinks on Saturday morning as they join a cluster of couples for a series of workshops. They’ve reminded each other of half forgotten steps, have shared techniques in theatre of course – and Serena has learned plenty about trauma surgery from Bernie – but they’ve never both been starting from scratch.

It turns out they have very different ways of learning. Bernie watches closely as Martin and Helena demonstrate a new step in the tango, her eyes tracking the patterns their feet make across the floor. Serena, on the other hand, feels hardly the wiser for seeing what it should look like, takes note of timings and angles and flicks but knows it won’t sink in until she actually dances it.

They giggle their way through the mistakes of their initial attempts, when others turn to look at them only laugh more, their heads bowing close.

‘Right, come on, we can do this,’ Bernie wheezes, straightening up and firming her frame.

‘No fun you,’ Serena teases. But she straightens up too, makes herself focus.

Instead of being annoyed at how quickly Bernie picks up the step Serena finds that she’s grateful; it means she doesn’t have to worry about what Bernie’s doing or whether she’s leading her right or whether her feet and legs are going to be in the wrong place ready to be stepped on or kicked, can just follow her and allow the movements to settle into her muscle memory.

‘I wish I’d met you sooner,’ Serena says as they sit down for a break. ‘It would have resulted in considerably fewer injuries to my toes when I was a beginner.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Bernie smiles, resting her arm across the back of Serena’s chair and stroking her shoulder. ‘I trod on a lot of toes when I was learning. Besides, we’d probably have been thrown out for being too disruptive.’

‘Me, disruptive?’ Serena says, with mock affront. ‘I think you’ll find _you’re_ the disruptive one, Ms Wolfe.’

‘Me?’ Bernie gasps. ‘How dare you.’

‘Need I remind you how you upturned my entire life?’ Serena asks, her voice accusing but a fond glint in her eyes.

‘Can’t help it if I’m irresistible,’ Bernie shrugs.

‘Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with you,’ Serena teases with a sigh. ‘And yes,’ she adds quickly when Bernie opens her mouth to reply, ‘that was rhetorical. I don’t need a list of all your wonderful qualities, darling.’

‘How about just one?’ Bernie suggests, leaning forward to brush a quick kiss to her lips.

‘Well yes, there is that,’ Serena allows, catching at Bernie’s hand. She grazes her thumb back and forth across her knuckles a few times, then gets to her feet and tugs Bernie up with her. ‘Come on then, shall we have another go?’

*

At lunchtime they walk down the hill towards the front, eat fish and chips from the paper and then stroll along the beach filled with families making the most of the unseasonable warmth.

‘Should’ve brought my sunglasses,’ Serena says, shading her eyes from the sun glinting off the sea.

‘You wouldn’t think it was nearly November,’ Bernie agrees, dodging a Jack Russell madly chasing after a tennis ball. ‘Almost seems a shame to be spending most of the day cooped up inside when it’s so lovely.’

‘We can skip the tea dance if you prefer,’ Serena offers. ‘Spend the afternoon sunning ourselves instead?’

Bernie shakes her head. ‘I’d rather be dancing with you. But maybe we could get an ice cream before we head back?’

‘I’m sure we can manage that,’ Serena smiles. ‘I’ll even get you one with a Flake,’ she adds, her smile widening when Bernie grins.

*

The tea dance is a very civilised affair. They sit with Geoff and his wife Debbie, eat cake and drink tea and chat for a while before anyone ventures into the floor; lots of couples try out the new steps they learned in the morning, with varying degrees of success. It feels far more sedate and relaxed than last night, and people seem more inclined to laugh at their mistakes.

‘There’s a step I watched you do in the waltz last night,’ Geoff says. ‘It was really beautiful, had a heel turn and then a chassé, I think?’

‘Double reverse spin?’ Serena suggests, glancing at Bernie.

‘Well it definitely had a spin,’ Geoff says.

‘This one?’ Bernie asks, taking Serena’s hand and walking to the edge of the floor before leading her into the step.

‘Yes, that’s it. Would you be able to teach us?’

So they commandeer a corner of the floor, dance it through a few times while Debbie and Geoff watch and then together with them.

‘I think we’ve got it,’ Geoff says eventually, triumphantly.

‘Now we’ve just got to try and remember it this evening,’ Debbie adds.

‘Thank you so much,’ Geoff smiles. ‘Good teachers as well as good dancers.’

‘Thank you,’ Bernie smiles. ‘And you’re very welcome.’

‘I look forward to seeing it later,’ Serena says with a wink. ‘Foxtrot, darling?’

‘Go on then,’ Bernie replies, slipping her hand into Serena’s.

*                *                *

They wear all black on Saturday night. All black, that is, except for Serena’s shawl and Bernie’s bow tie, both of which shimmer with shades of sea green and blue. When she’s ready, Bernie sits on the edge of the bed and watches Serena finish her make up.

‘You’re so, so beautiful,’ Bernie says. ‘And I definitely more than like you.’

‘I more than like you too,’ Serena smiles, watching in the mirror as Bernie stands and walks towards her.

‘I think we should go down for dinner pretty promptly,’ Bernie murmurs into the curve of Serena’s shoulder, arms sliding around her waist.

‘Why?’ Serena asks, tilting her head so Bernie can trail kisses up her neck.

‘Because otherwise I’m going to turn you into a complete mess.’

‘Plenty of time for that later,’ Serena replies, her voice low and full of promise. ‘Are you going to do that up?’ she asks, turning in Bernie’s arms and fiddling with the ends of her bow tie.

‘What, am I too scruffy for you?’ Bernie teases.

‘Not at all, darling. I rather like having something to hold on to, actually,’ she adds, gently tugging Bernie close enough to kiss.

‘Definitely time for dinner,’ Bernie almost growls, shivering as Serena uses her thumb to carefully wipe the reddish-pink stain from her lips. ‘Else we’re not going to be leaving this room.’

*

‘Look at you lovely ladies,’ Helena says when they walk into the dining room arm in arm a little later, after Serena has reapplied her lipstick. ‘Don’t you make a stunning couple?’

Bernie pulls out Serena’s chair for her, sits opposite her and gazes across the table into her sparkling eyes. ‘I’m very lucky,’ she says softly.

They linger over dessert and coffee again, finally head down to the ballroom when they realise everyone else has already gone, Serena snagging the remaining half bottle of Shiraz to take with them. When they make a detour to the toilets Bernie gently presses Serena against the door and kisses her thoroughly, licking the taste of chocolate mousse and coffee from her mouth.

‘You needed to touch your lipstick up anyway,’ she says, entirely unapologetically. ‘Thought I might as well take advantage.’

*

It’s hot in the ballroom. Serena discards her shawl almost immediately and Bernie’s jacket follows after a couple of dances; after a couple more she rolls up her sleeves and Serena can’t keep from running her fingers along her forearms, lightly tracing the veins and arteries. She can’t keep from doing it while they dance either, trailing her fingers down bare skin at every opportunity she can find.

‘You’re a terrible distraction, you know,’ Bernie murmurs when they almost collide with another couple.

‘Sorry darling, I’ll behave,’ Serena replies, forcing her hands back to where they should be.

‘Just for now. If we end up in a heap on the floor we might have trouble misbehaving later.’ She meets Serena’s gaze for the briefest instant, feels as much as hears Serena’s moan when she sees how dark Bernie’s eyes are.

‘Now who’s being a terrible distraction?’ she manages, her voice hoarse.

Bernie presses impossibly closer, her fingers tightening a little around Serena’s hand in hers, her thigh pressing between Serena’s as they pivot, and Serena moans again.

‘How early is too early to leave?’ she mutters, and Bernie laughs even as the whisper of Serena’s breath across her skin makes her shiver.

But they stay all night, the lure of so much dancing enough to keep them there despite desire and encroaching tiredness and increasingly aching feet. They try their best to remember the steps they learned earlier in the day, cheer when Debbie and Geoff successfully manage a double reverse spin and collapse against each other giggling when people turn to stare at them, each happily dance with Helena and watch when she and Martin cha cha together. Everyone seems a little reluctant to get up on the floor to follow that. Serena looks at the emptiness and then meets Bernie’s eye.

‘What are the chances of other couples following if we get up, do you think?’ she murmurs.

‘Compared to the chances of us doing an inadvertent demonstration, you mean?’

‘Worth the risk?’

‘I’m game if you are,’ Bernie smiles, standing and offering her hand to Serena.

The gamble pays off; within a few bars half a dozen couples join them on the dance floor, and Serena feels Bernie relax against her.

‘Was a tiny part of you hoping we’d be all alone up here?’ Bernie asks. ‘As payback for the competition at work?’

‘Would I do such a thing?’ Serena asks innocently, winking when Bernie scowls at her.

*

There’s a moment, about half way through the night, when Serena thinks she won’t be able to resist Bernie, won’t be able to keep her promise to behave herself. It’s a rumba – of course it is. The [opening notes](https://tea-and-procrastination.tumblr.com/post/159270335849/andy-fortuna-secundo-rumba) are enough to take her back to [the night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10055291/chapters/23316072) she should have been in Italy, the night they danced pressed so close together and Bernie’s eyes were so dark and filled with want. The press of their bodies, just the same here and now, sends a thrill through her, her skin suddenly on fire where it touches Bernie’s. When they rock together she can’t help remembering later that night, when she had touched herself while thinking of Bernie, barely manages to suppress a moan and finds herself longing for the song to be over.

When it is – finally – Serena hurriedly excuses herself to the bathroom, leans against the counter and looks at herself in the mirror. The flush on her cheeks could easily be put down to heat and exertion, but there’s no reasonable alternative explanation for the darkness of her eyes. She knows Bernie must have seen her wide pupils – couldn’t possibly have missed them – and for a moment fantasises about what might happen if Bernie followed her. Would Bernie lift her onto the counter, would she wrap her legs around Bernie’s waist to hold her close? Would she drag Bernie into a cubicle with her, push her against the locked door and–

‘Stop it,’ she mutters under her breath.

She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, silently recites the stages of an appendectomy to calm herself, runs her hands under the cold tap and presses them to her neck.

‘You alright?’ Bernie asks when she rejoins her.

‘Fine, darling,’ Serena smiles, ignoring the tingle when Bernie takes her hand. ‘Would you mind terribly if we sat this tango out?’

Bernie looks at her, questioning, must see the lingering desire in her eyes because her breath hitches and she nods once before looking away again, ostensibly watching the dancing but, Serena suspects, not really seeing it.

*

The last dance of the night – of the weekend – is a [Viennese waltz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zq5RuKREJzE&spfreload=10). There are only a handful of couples left now and they all ignore their protesting feet and get up. It’s a long song – Strauss always is – and one by one couples drop out and sink into their chairs, until eventually there are only two on the floor: Martin and Helena, and Bernie and Serena.

Bernie takes advantage of the luxury of having so much space, of having the freedom of not having to worry about collisions; she turns and turns and turns some more, a succession of naturals across the width and alternating naturals and reverses separated by change steps down the length. Serena feels light as a feather as they whirl around and she can’t help but smile at the feel of Bernie’s strength and power and the connection between them, marvels at how Bernie’s steps can still be so smooth and sure after so many hours of dancing.

When the music ends Bernie, her eyes glinting and a smile quirking her lips, bows; Serena responds with as graceful a curtsey as she can manage in her slightly dizzy state. Bernie tugs her upright and in for a hug, wraps an arm around her shoulders as they leave the floor in an almost straight line.

*

They walk back to their room barefoot, the carpet wonderfully soft under their aching feet, shoes dangling from one hand each and the fingers of the others tangled together.

‘It’s been a lovely weekend,’ Serena says softly.

‘Mm,’ Bernie agrees.

‘Not over yet,’ Serena adds, her voice lilting suggestively.

‘Not by a long way,’ Bernie agrees again, and Serena feels all her desire start to flood back.

When the door is safely closed behind them Bernie kisses Serena; with soft thuds their shoes drop to the floor and, both hands now free, Serena begins to unbutton Bernie’s shirt.

And then, through the open window, they hear an off-key and drunken, but very enthusiastic, rendition of _Don’t Stop Believing_ emanating from the karaoke night in one of the hotel bars.

‘How romantic,’ Bernie mutters dryly.

‘Got all the romance I need right here,’ Serena smiles, finishing with the buttons and sliding her hands across bare skin.

Bernie leans to kiss her again, then gently turns her around so she can reach the zip down the back of her dress. As she does so she hums a snatch of melody under her breath; Serena recognises it as the song they danced the rumba to earlier, and she shivers from the combination of the memory and Bernie’s fingers lightly pressing against her spine.

‘What were you thinking about?’ Bernie asks, slipping the dress from Serena’s shoulders and smoothing her hands across her rib cage, her splayed fingers rising and falling with each breath Serena takes.

‘You know exactly what I was thinking about,’ Serena replies a little unsteadily. ‘And I’ll bet you were thinking about it too.’

Bernie tugs Serena back so their bodies are flush, rests her chin on Serena’s shoulder and sways gently. ‘I almost followed you,’ she murmurs, pressing her lips to the curve of Serena’s neck, and Serena shivers again at the thought that her imaginings almost came true.

‘What would you have done?’ Serena asks, her voice hoarse.

‘Nothing I want to do now,’ Bernie replies. ‘Not when it would mean ignoring that large and rather comfortable bed.’

Serena draws back enough to turn in Bernie’s arms and meet her eyes. ‘So what are you going to do instead?’ she asks, almost a challenge.

‘Well,’ Bernie says. ‘I think I’ll begin with a kiss.’

‘And then?’ Serena asks, breathless, when their lips part.

Bernie nudges Serena’s legs apart a little, slips hers between them and draws Serena as close against her as she can. Serena moans softly, can’t help pushing into Bernie’s thigh.

‘And then I think we should lose this underwear,’ Bernie says, her fingertips sneaking just under the lace trim. ‘Before it’s completely ruined.’

Serena nods her approval vigorously. ‘What about the rest of your clothes?’ she asks, stepping back so Bernie can slip her knickers down, reaching to undo her bra and letting that fall to the floor too.

‘Surplus to requirements, I should think,’ Bernie agrees, swiftly unbuttoning her trousers.

‘And then?’ Serena asks, her voice even lower than before.

Bernie reaches for her hand and plays with her fingers. Serena’s skin feels alight, every nerve ending singing where their skin touches.

‘I can’t decide,’ Bernie says, only the slightest waver betraying that this is anything other than a perfectly innocent conversation, ‘whether I most want to kneel and worship you with my mouth or have you splayed out beneath me.’

‘Oh god,’ Serena chokes out.

‘What do you think?’ Bernie asks, as if she’s asking Serena’s opinion on a case at work.

‘Both?’ Serena suggests, suddenly unable to make a decision.

Bernie grins, laces their fingers and firmly tugs Serena to her. ‘I hoped you’d say that,’ she murmurs against Serena’s lips, kissing her messily, all teeth and tongue, as she pushes her towards the bed.

*                *                *

‘Do you mind if we go for a walk along the beach before we leave?’ Bernie asks after breakfast, after they’ve said goodbye to new friends and thanked Martin and Helena for inviting them. ‘Would be nice to stretch my legs out a bit before the drive. And it would be a shame not to make the most of the weather too.’

‘We could,’ Serena says slowly, looking up from finishing her packing.

‘Or what?’ Bernie asks suspiciously.

‘Well, Jason won’t be back until eight, and he won’t be expecting dinner.’

‘And?’ Bernie frowns.

Serena unzips a pocket in her handbag, pulls out an envelope and hands it to Bernie.

‘It won’t bite, darling,’ she laughs when Bernie stares at it suspiciously.

Slowly Bernie turns the envelope over and wiggles the tip of her finger under the flap so she can tear it open in tiny, jagged movements. She pulls out the piece of paper inside and unfolds it, stares at it and then at Serena.

‘According to Jason they have the best reviews for afternoon tea,’ Serena explains, fingers fluttering around her neck at Bernie’s silence. ‘I, well, I thought we could have a wander here and then drive over?’

She’s stopped from saying anything else by Bernie’s arms wrapping around her tightly.

‘Nice surprise?’ Serena asks, nuzzling into her neck.

‘Very. Although I hope you don’t expect me to follow the Devon tradition and put the cream on my scones before the jam. Because that definitely won’t be happening.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Serena smiles. ‘Although I’d love you however you chose to eat your cream tea. I do put up with you insisting on having pineapple on your pizza, after all.’

*                *                *

Thanks to the clocks having gone back an hour it’s dark when they arrive home, and feels much later than it really is. Bernie winces a little when she gets out of the car and Serena frowns, pauses on her way to unlock the door to rub her hand soothingly along Bernie’s spine.

‘You go on in, darling,’ she says. ‘I’ll unpack and then give it a rub for you.’

‘Are you sure?’

Serena nods and smiles at her. ‘You know me, any excuse to touch you,’ she teases.

‘Incorrigible,’ Bernie mutters, and Serena winks.

When Serena goes upstairs she finds Bernie lying on her stomach, naked from the waist up. ‘What a lovely end to a lovely weekend,’ Serena says softly, squeezing handcream from a tube before carefully kneeling over her.  ‘Sorry if they’re cold,’ she adds, lightly smoothing her palms up and down Bernie’s back a few times and then setting to work seeking out the knots.

‘It has been lovely,’ Bernie agrees, once Serena’s ministrations have ceased to be so painful. ‘Do you think they’ll let us join in if they go again?’

‘You don’t think we were too badly behaved?’ Serena teases.

‘I think _someone_ has to be badly behaved,’ Bernie reasons. ‘Why shouldn’t it be us? You did- you did enjoy it, didn’t you?’

‘I did,’ Serena reassures her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder. ‘Very much. And I would love to do it again.’

Bernie twists her neck enough that she can meet Serena’s eye, returns her soft smile and then settles back again.

‘Although my feet might be rather less keen,’ Serena mutters. ‘Is it sad that I’m almost looking forward to spending tomorrow morning sat at my desk?

‘Yes,’ Bernie replies promptly, squeaking when Serena tickles her side. ‘Only because I’d rather you were in theatre with me.’

‘Nice save,’ Serena says, and Bernie can hear the smile in her voice, can imagine the glittering of her eyes.

‘I’ll give you a foot rub later?’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Serena replies, her thumbs sweeping around Bernie’s shoulder blades.

‘If you don’t send me to sleep first, that is,’ Bernie mumbles into her pillow, barely stifling a yawn.

‘Big macho army medic done in by a bit of dancing, hm?’ Serena teases. ‘Better not let that get out.’


End file.
